For still all mysteries persist
save only our persistence in the chase
the flagging hearts
and idle minds
are wrapped in glistening foil
pretending scintillation
from the myriad forms
reflected in our coats so bright
whilst
the hollow home within soaks sight
within its own brief warmth
admitting nothing which is not filtered in
admits no scars
no river of stars,
no jungled hills, no sin.
Powder yellow stars pricked on the stained
green blades
of golden moorland summer
know a quilt
for the traveller
caught far
into the journey of the soul in light
phrase
purple orchids rising all about
as if
weariness
were all vanished
in the rising of colours
the sunset’s eye.
So must we learn again to shout
from the mountain top,
to dance, to sing,
and for youth to come to ride – up high!
So damn those…
who would make a florist of a flower!
And whether to praise most
those who carve from the rock
the dimensions of sacred places
or those who weave
from the air
a sacred sensibility in man -
or better neither,
only keep faith both
with the church
and its service
the place and its moment
the circle & its walking stone.
She came
who was neither mirror nor salt to my wounds
but laughter & all the wisdom that goes with it
and beauty which is innocent but spry
& so I
got lucky, for whom the bulldozers were moving in.
Thus a tale unfolds
in which there are characters,
as a short story
changes into a novel;
& I must take
the symphonic ambition
(ai me!)
to the waiting wood.
And that all art is apocalyptic
because all art is, ultimately, about
the orgasm.
Death gives me comfort only
because its awfulness is
out there
isn’t here at all
isn’t
at all
at all.
The Kingdom is founded on Love
on a feeling in the heart before Creation
transcending intellect, fear or caution
Which downgrades nothing &
ENOBLES all.
So that anyone who witnessed the dancing in you who could grasp some symbol of action, some inkling of that light’s presence could carry it forward & be illuminated in their own space ie. rediscover their world: whence it would be as the boundary of heaven & the trappings of the empire of eternity & the periphery of blinding love
&
it all points eventually, in toting a full life,
to sacrifice
going out there
beyond
And also,
forgive me,
but we have also to acknowledge
that the old ways
any old
ways
your church,
your people,
everything you have faith in
& all that you love
are dying
And should we not care for our dying?
And will not our present be dying
even as we unwrap the presents
our futures bring us?
Is not
simultaneity
the dimension of all
&
in cosmic speak
entity, not entropy
the truth of it?
Entity
arising from the Myriad
Entity
corona of love
Entirety